


Those aren't talking shoes.

by GlitterSkullFairy



Series: While I'm waiting for series 4 [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 03 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 00:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15279246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterSkullFairy/pseuds/GlitterSkullFairy
Summary: What happens after the big reveal.  (I know, everyone's doing it, but I thought I'd join the party.)Just more Deckerstar.





	Those aren't talking shoes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I have ever written any fan-fic so please be gentle with me!

It really was difficult to stay drunk, but certainly not impossible. On a day like today it was necessary. He prepared carefully as he wasn't sure how long it would be before she arrived, and he didn't want to be sober at all when that happened. Even though half the bottles had been brought down from the shelf and lined up on the bar, she was taking longer than expected and already two thirds of them were empty. He filled his glass to the brim again and returned to the piano. Anything so that he didn't have to think about what was going to happen next, or even what had happened earlier. Besides, even with them hidden, his wings still hurt.

He was half-way through playing Eternal Flame when the elevator doors swooshed open, and he stopped abruptly. 

“Lucifer?” 

He paused for a slight moment before he turned and greeted her with enthusiasm. “Detective! So good of you to drop by.”

He forced a smile, noticing that his glass was already empty again and getting up to refill it. As he glanced down something caught his eye, something high heeled and shiny, with a thin strap that circled her ankle. She was actually wearing a dress too, but most of it was still hidden under her jacket. “Nice shoes! Are you going to a party?” 

“No, I just thought you might like it.” She seemed slightly self-conscious about it, as if she was already regretting the decision. “We do have a date, remember?”

He stopped with the glass halfway to his lips. “Date? What date? No no no no noooooo.... you said we needed to talk. …I'm confused.”

“And also drunk.” 

“Yes!” He smile was more genuine this time as he raised his glass high in the air. “A moment of inspiration, that one. Thought it might take the edge off my impending doom.” He took a large gulp. “Hmm. It's working rather well actually.” 

She sighed, her arms crossing in front of belly. “And when you say 'impending doom' is that the usual over-dramatic Luciferness or is there some other apocalyptic event about to happen that I don't know about?”

“You said we needed to talk,” he said, as if that explained everything, all trace of a smile gone.

“You mentioned that already.”

“Well, that's what people say, isn't it, when they're about to _dump_ you.”

She tried to hold back the eye-roll, but it seemed to have a life all of its own. “Right. Sometimes. But I'm not here to break up with you. I just meant that a lot's happened in the last few days and we should probably talk about all that, and what it all means for our...” she swallowed, as if she'd changed her mind mid-sentence. “For us.”

“So you mean like actual talking, then.”

“Yes.” She took a few steps closer, the heels clicking on the hard floor. The sound got his attention and he looked down again.

“Those aren't 'talking' shoes.”

She nodded, her eyes glancing to the side. “No. Well, I wasn't planning on talking all night.”

He just put down his glass and stared at her. This was not going in the direction he expected at all.

“Lucifer, what's wrong?”

“What's wrong?” he echoed, his voice rising in frustration. “What's wrong? Well how about we gloss over the part where you nearly died, again, because of me, again; completely bypass the part where I killed the man to whom you were so recently engaged- not forgetting that I made sure he went straight to Hell- and skip to the part where you saw... you saw me...” He faltered. “Bloody Hell, now the alcohol's worn off again.” He returned to the piano, avoiding her gaze, and took another long drink. “Detective, if you hadn't made me promise to stay I would be well out of your way by now.”

“I know. Why do you think I made you promise?” She came and stood right beside him. 

“I don't know! It doesn't make any sense, you should be screaming and running for the hills, not standing here, in my home, in ...very confusing shoes.” It wasn't so much the shoes themselves that were confusing- on anyone else he would have known immediately what their intention was- but it was the fact that she was wearing them, and on today of all days.

“Lucifer, I am exactly where I want to be.”

“Why?”

“Because you saved my life today. Again. And because Pierce- Cain, deserved everything that he got. You stopped someone who needed to be stopped and couldn't be stopped any other way. And because now I know you...” She reached out to him, taking a deep breath. He knew that kind of breath, and it wasn't the scared kind. “I think I'm going to need some of that whisky,” she said, grabbing the glass from his hand.

“Help yourself,” he scoffed.

She grabbed a bottle from the bar, replenished the shared drink and sat down beside him. “So, talking then.”

“As you wish, Detective. Where do we start?”

“How about with an apology?”

“Because I'm famous for admitting my mistakes?” his voice dripped with sarcasm as he snatched the glass back from her.

“No, Lucifer, I didn't mean you.” She pulled a small, black notebook out of her jacket pocket and offered it to him.

“What's this?”

“Open it.”

He took it, handing the drink back to her. She sipped slowly as he read. The first few pages were notes from a crime scene, a drive-by shooting which ended in a car crash. His name was at the top of the next page. He smiled, a true smile this time. “Immortal, with two m's. So you kept it?”

She nodded. “Keep reading.” He was surprised to find all the pages were full, he hadn't seen her use it much since that first time they met. Looking more closely, it soon became clear that these weren't exactly crime scene notes, they were all about him. It started off with the more inexplicable events, like getting shot but not hurt, theories of hypnosis, and bullets that weren't real bullets. But then it shifted focus, to the strange things he said, like when he talked about Hell or his family, the seemingly erratic behaviour which infuriated and confused her. It also detailed all the times he'd been there to save her.

“You kept all of it? I don't understand.”

“I owe you an apology. After we did all the statements, and the evidence, and the paperwork, and the rest of it... When I finally got home and had time to think, I got out that notebook, and I went over everything. And still, not all of it makes sense, but it makes a lot more sense that it did before. And I've been an idiot! I'm supposed to be a detective, but I let my own beliefs get in the way of the evidence. It's all there. You kept telling me, and I kept avoiding it, trying to explain it away. You've told me nothing but the truth all along, you've protected me from things I didn't even understand.”

“If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have needed protecting.”

“Possibly. But I didn't choose a career in the homicide department because I thought it would be safe. Look, we can go over all the details later, I haven't slept in so long and I think my brain is melting from everything it has to think about. Lucifer, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. You're not just my partner, you're my best friend, and a lot of huge stuff has happened and I need to make sure you're okay.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “But I'm the Devil.”

She reached over and took his hand. “Yes. You're the Devil. But you've told me often enough that doesn't mean what everyone says it means. You're still my Lucifer. And I cannot begin to imagine everything you've been through, but I will always be here for you, no matter what.”

He just stared at her, breathing slowly, overwhelmed with so many different emotions. All he could manage was one word. “Why?”

She let go and stood up again. The liquor had brought a blush to her cheek. Placing it on the piano, she shrugged off her jacket. She looked beautiful, vulnerable but strong. She took his hands and guided him up next to her. “Ask me the question.” 

“I can't. It doesn't work on you.” She placed his hands onto her waist and reached up to touch his face. 

“Ask me. I promise I'll tell you the truth.” 

He smiled. Maybe the shoes weren't so confusing after all. “Detective Chloe Decker, what do you truly desire?”

He leaned in, heads touching. He already knew the answer, he could feel it now, stronger than any other desire he'd encountered. It made him feel bolder, but still he needed to hear her say it. He tightened his grip, pulling her closer and she briefly closed her eyes and gasped. “Tell me.”

“You.”


End file.
